While Mother Nature put on a vivid show outside the truck, sending torrents of rain from the heavens and enlivening the evening with blazes of lightning and drum rolls of thunder, Deanna and Luke found heaven in each other’s arms. In the hot, fervid joining of their bodies. In the pure, sweet act of forgiveness. In the tenderness of love.
Chapter 15
Deanna and Luke rushed inside the guest cottage. Drenched from the rain, they went into each other’s arms, their mouths greedily seeking, their hands hungrily touching. Luke lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom, where they both stripped out of their soggy boots and soaked jeans and shirts. Luke turned on the warm water and led Deanna into the small shower. She shivered in his arms as he lowered his head and kissed her. The kiss went on and on, until they were both breathless and aroused beyond reason. And then he washed her, slowly, tenderly, caressing every inch of her body. When he completed his task, she took the soap from him and lathered his broad chest and wide shoulders, then worked her way downward. Clasping his tight buttocks in her hands, she urged him to turn into the spray to rinse away the soap. While the warm water jetted down on them, Deanna caressed him intimately, her hand circling and then pumping. Luke growled, deep and rough. He speared his fingers into her hair and held her head in place while she used her tongue to pleasure him. When she took him into her mouth, he braced his trembling body against the shower enclosure and gave himself over to her pure, selfless act of love. He unraveled completely, allowing Deanna the mastery of his body as she brought him to a powerful release. With the aftershocks of fulfillment still rippling through him, Luke led Deanna out of the shower, then began a slow, sensual seduction. He dried her damp skin, concentrating on her breasts and the apex between her thighs. She swayed, her legs rubbery, her knees weak. He towel-dried her hair and then carried her to the bed. With his body braced over hers, he tormented her nipples with his tongue and teeth until she was wild for him, and then he licked and nipped a pathway down her stomach, over and into her navel and finally down and into the secret depths of her femininity. She cried out with the earth-shattering ecstasy of the climax Luke gave her.
They drifted off into a sated sleep, their bodies damp, naked and uncovered on the bed in the Montrose guest house.
When they awoke, almost simultaneously, Luke only a couple of minutes before Deanna, they looked at each other and smiled.
“I’m hungry,” Luke said as he reached out to twine a stray lock of her hair around his index finger. “How about you?”
“Starved,” she said. “Want me to fix us some supper?”
“A woman after my own heart.” Luke grinned.
“Always,” she replied, returning his smile, but a sheen of tears misted her eyes.
He pulled her close, encompassing her in his arms. Resting his chin on her head, he hugged her fiercely. “Don’t cry, babe. Please don’t cry. We’ll find our way through this mess, all the way to the end. We’ll do it together, side by side. No matter what happens, we aren’t alone anymore.”
Deanna thought her heart would burst with happiness. The man who had prided himself on being a loner had opened himself up to her and admitted his loneliness. Lifting her hand to his face, she stroked his cheek. “Sometimes the loneliness was almost more than I could bear,” she admitted. “No matter how busy I stayed, no matter how many people I surrounded myself with, I was always so alone.”
He pressed her hand against his cheek. “I’ve been alone all my life. Even before my mother died. She never was there for me. Not really. And even in the midst of the McClendon clan, I always felt outside the fold. Only with you, Deanna, did I ever feel a part of someone else. And when you left my life, it was worse than it had been before I knew you. Much worse.”
She hugged him fiercely. “Do you think there’s any way we can get back what we lost?”
Luke eased away from her, swung his legs off the bed and stood. Looking down at her, he held out his hand. “Let’s go find ourselves something to eat.”
She took his hand. He lifted her from the bed to her feet.
“I’m sorry, Luke,” she said. “I guess I’m asking for too much. Knowing that you don’t hate me and that you’ve forgiven me is more than I’d ever hoped for.”
“We can’t ever get back what we lost,” he told her. “What we had together then is gone forever.”
Deanna sadly nodded agreement. “We should get dressed. I’m afraid I don’t have anything that you can wear, but—”
He grasped her chin, forcing her to face him. “We don’t need any clothes. There’s no reason why we can’t enjoy supper just the way we are—buck naked.”
He grinned at her and for one brief, sweet moment in time, she didn’t care that the past was irretrievably lost to her, as lost as Luke’s son. This precious night with Luke was a dream come true, a chance to build new memories to replace the old ones. A gift from the gods that she would cherish forever.
Even if Luke could never love her again the way he once had, it was enough that by gaining his forgiveness, she had returned Luke to the land of the living. She had retrieved his soul from the black depths of Hades.
They sat together in the tiny kitchenette, munching on potato chips and swigging on sugary colas, after they finished off ham sandwiches. Naked and completely at ease in their undressed state, Luke and Deanna shared more than a meal. They discussed the ranch and Luke’s love for the land and his desire to someday return to Oklahoma and find out if there were any members of his mother’s family still on the Cherokee reservation. Deanna told him about her life in Jackson, about the special boys and girls to whom she had dedicated the past six years of her life.
The distant past was not mentioned again by either of them, nor did they talk about the future. It was as if they had telepathically made a pact to hold the demons at bay for this one night. They were taking the first steps in a journey of self-discovery, of shared intimacies and pleasures that they could experience with no other. Luke was not the boy she remembered—the boy she had adored with such complete abandon. Nor was she the girl Luke had worshiped so passionately. Fifteen long, lonely, painful years had matured them both into self-sufficient, independent adults. Adults who had learned to survive alone, without the comfort of love. Scarred, flawed individuals who, more than most, needed the healing power of love and forgiveness.
They stacked the dirty dishes in the sink and, hand in hand, returned to the bedroom.
“Should you call Kizzie?” Deanna asked.
“She’ll see my truck and know that we’re out here,” he said.
Deanna nodded.
“I could go back to the house,” he told her. “But I don’t want to leave you. Not tonight.”
He stood beside her, the dim glow from the bedside lamp outlining his magnificent body in a yellow-white aura. Every feminine instinct within her reacted to his raw masculinity. She tugged on his hand and led him to the bed. Bringing him with her as she lay down, she invited him to stay. To share with her what he could share with no other woman. The joining not only of bodies, but of hearts and souls. Luke hadn’t told her he loved her, but in her heart of hearts, Deanna believed that he did. And she held tightly to that belief when she offered herself to him, without any promises or commitments for the future.
“I want you to stay tonight,” she said. I want you to stay with me forever, my love.
There was a gentleness in their lovemaking that had been missing in their previous joinings. A caring that went beyond the physical, as if they were trying to make love to each other’s wounded souls.
Luke caressed her, his hands and fingers moving with slow, deliberate seduction. His touch was featherlight as he stroked her vulnerable neck. She writhed with pleasure as he found and paid homage to each sexually sensitive spot on her body. He ran his big fingers between her slender ones and brought her hand to his mouth. He sucked the tips of each finger, one by one. Shudders of desire rippled over her nerve endings. He licked a moist circle ar
ound one ear and then the other, all the while he moved his fingers in and out of her damp core. He spread her legs to reach her inner thighs, where he painted her flesh, using his tongue as a brush.
She reveled in his ardent attention, loving each touch, each whispered earthy phrase as he praised her beauty and described his intentions in crude, masculine detail.
The moment he entered her, she fell apart, spiraling out of control, climaxing immediately.
Luke loved that he could give her such pleasure, that he instinctively knew what she wanted and needed.
“It has never been like this with anyone else,” he said, his voice a raw growl.
“I’m glad,” was all she could say.
He cupped her buttocks, lifting her up so that he could delve deeply, joining them completely. Her lush body was the beginning and end of his world. Luke heard the rush of blood through his veins, the pumping of his heart and his harsh, ragged breathing. He wished this wild, uncontrollable surge toward completion could last for hours instead of minutes, but if he stayed inside her, he’d be lost and so would she.
Deanna whimpered when Luke withdrew from her. Clutching his shoulders, she tried to bring him back inside, back into the depths of her throbbing body. She gazed up into his half-closed eyes and saw the agony he could not disguise. And she understood his actions. He knew as well as she that this night would be hours out of time, hours that would end at daybreak, hours that might be all they’d ever share. He did not want the loving to end. He wanted this night to last forever. And so did she.
But they could no more hold back the dawn than they could control their passion.
She encompassed his sex with her hand and drew him back to her. “Love me now,” she told him. “Don’t think about tomorrow.”
He thrust into her and she took him into her body, empowered by all the love and longing within her heart. They thrashed about in the bed, twisting and turning, moving together in a wild, frenzy of unbridled need. And when Luke’s climax came, it washed over them both like a tidal wave, exploding inside him with maximum force and igniting her own cataclysmic release.
They lay in each other’s arms, sated, totally spent, and satisfied both physically and emotionally. They had shared true loving at its best, their bodies in tune, their feelings united as surely as their bodies had been.
When Deanna began to doze off to sleep, Luke dragged her out of bed and lifted her in his arms, pulling the blanket up with her. He carried her outside, onto the porch. After draping the cotton blanket around them, he sat down on the wooden bench and placed her in his lap. The rainstorm had passed, leaving behind that fresh, sweet scent that wafted in the air, rarer by far than any expensive Parisian perfume. Overhead the night sky had cleared and the array of tiny, winking stars spread out over them like a diamond-studded black canopy.
Deanna rested her head on his shoulder and absorbed the most exhilarating contentment she had ever known. This is what life should be, she thought. Every day. Every hour. But if it were, there would be no need for heaven.
“I wish I knew the right words,” Luke said. “I’ve never been very good at talking.”
“It’s all right,” she told him. “You don’t have to say any more. You’ve shown me how you feel.”
“I’d like to forget the past, put it behind us and... Will you be patient with me, babe? Can you give me time to learn how to be human again?”
She cuddled in his arms, loving him and loving the way he made her feel. “I’ll give you all the time you need.”
He kissed her forehead, then rubbed his cheek against hers. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes.
An hour later, Luke carried a sleeping Deanna back inside the house, back to the bed they had shared. He eased her onto the soft sheet, lay down beside her and covered them both with the cotton blanket.
Luke had left her. He’d walked away and not even looked back She turned to run to him, to chase him down and tell him that she would go with him, that even if her father killed them both, she wanted to be with him.
“Don’t follow him, Dede,” Rayburn Atchley warned. “If you don’t want that boy dead, you’d better stay right where you are.”
“But I love him, Daddy. Can’t you understand that?” She looked pleadingly at her father. “I’m going to have Luke’s baby.”
“There’s no way in hell I’ll let you have that breed’s baby. I’ll have his seed ripped out of you, girl!”
“No, Daddy. No, you won’t. I won’t let you!”
Rayburn Atchley moved closer and closer, backing her up against the fence. He loomed over her, big and furious and dangerous. Until recently, she had never feared her father. But she feared him now. He lifted his hand to strike her.
“Don’t Daddy! Don’t hit her!” Junior called out in a loud but trembling voice.
Rayburn snapped his head around and glared at his son. “you stay out of this, boy!”
“No, Daddy, I can’t. I didn’t lift a hand to stop you from beating Luke McClendon nearly to death, but I can’t just stand here and watch you beat my sister.”
“Yeah, you and what army’s going to stop me? Tell me that, mama’s boy. You haven’t got the balls to stop me and we both know it.”
“Don’t do it, Daddy.” Junior took a tentative step forward out of the darkness. Benita moved like a shadow to stand at his side.
“Your sister whored around with that young bastard and got herself pregnant with his baby. But I’m not going to have a child of his come into this family. I’ll beat it out of her.”
Deanna trembled, her fear a living, breathing reality, growing inside her as surely as the child she carried.
Rayburn balled his big hand into a fist, drew back and rammed it into Deanna’s stomach. Doubling over, she cried out in pain, then slumped to the ground. Her father grabbed her shoulder, lifted her to her feet and drew back his fist again.
Junior shot toward his father, bombarding him with his stocky, young body. He tried to pull Rayburn away from Deanna. Like a raging bull. the big man turned on his son and used his hard fist to knock the boy into the dirt. Benita ran crying to Junior, dropping to her knees to cradle his head.
“Stay down there, if you know what’s good for you,” Rayburn said. “You’re a weakling, boy. You’re no match for me.” Rayburn sneered, then let his gaze rest on his son’s girlfriend. “Isn’t that right, Benita? Tell my son that he’s not half the man in the sack that his old man is. ”
Grinning broadly, Rayburn turned back around to Deanna, who clung to the fence. “Either you agree to an abortion or I’ll beat that heathen’s baby out of you right here and now.”
“Please, Daddy...” Tears streamed down Deanna’s face. Pain sliced through her body.
“Leave her alone, you son of a bitch!” Junior said.
When Rayburn turned sideways to answer his son’s threat, Deanna gasped when she saw the pitchfork in Junior’s hand.
Rayburn laughed. “Put that down, boy. If Luke McClendon didn’t have the guts to use that thing on me, then you sure as hell don’t.”
“You think I don’t know what kind of man you really are.” Junior glared at his father. “I know. I’ve always known. Mama hates you and so do l. And now Deanna does, too.”
Benita tugged on Junior’s arm. “Please, Junior, you know I love only you. You know what he did to me.”
Junior shoved Benita away from him. “You raped her. You couldn’t keep your hands off her because you knew she was mine. You knew that I loved her.”
“Put that pitchfork down, son. Don’t make a bigger fool of yourself than you already have.” Rayburn moved toward Junior, confident in his power over the boy. “If your little Mexican piece told you that I raped her, she lied. She wanted me all right. Wanted me bad. Didn’t you, honey?”
Junior’s eyes brightened, his cheeks flushed. His hands tightened around the handle of the pitchfork.
As if in slow motion, Deanna watched helplessly as her brother rammed the prongs of
the pitchfork into their father’s chest, shoving him to the ground and pinning him there. Rayburn stared up at his son in total shock and disbelief for one brief second and then gasped his final breath.
Deanna heard someone screaming and at first thought that she herself was making the dreadful noise. But she quickly realized that Benita was screaming hysterically. Within minutes, or so it seemed, Eddie and Phyllis came running to the stables. And while Deanna stood by helplessly, her mother and the ranch foreman plotted to save Junior by framing Luke McClendon for Rayburn Atchley’s death.
Deanna shot straight up in bed, sweat dripping from her naked body. Luke awoke instantly and realized she was crying silently. He gripped her trembling shoulders gently, turned her and drew her into his arms.
“Another dream?” he asked.
She couldn’t speak, but nodded affirmatively.
“Was it a bad one?”
She nodded again.
“Can you tell me about it?”
She took a deep breath, then said in quivering voice, “Junior.”
“What?”
“Junior killed Daddy,” she said.
He tensed when he heard her declaration. “Are you sure? Maybe you just dreamed that Junior killed your father, but in reality—”
“No,” she said. “No. It wasn’t just a dream. I remember now. I remember everything.”
“Tell me. Start at the beginning and tell me what happened that night after I left.”
He held her within the safety of his arms, protecting her as much as he could from the painful truth. She spoke slowly, calmly, at first and then, before she ended the recollection of the most traumatic night of her life, Deanna cried. Tears of regret. Tears of remorse. And tears of relief.
“Your brother was defending you,” Luke said. “Any court of law could have been convinced that he did what he had to do to keep your father from hurting you, from destroying the child inside you.”
“Junior didn’t want to go along with Mother and Eddie’s scheme to frame you. He kept begging them to let him tell the truth.” Deanna clung to Luke as heart-cleansing tears streamed down her face. “But before the sheriff arrived, he gave in and allowed Mother to have her way. He was just a kid, the way we were. And like me, he didn’t have the backbone to stand up against Mother.”
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